


Sleepless Nights

by KyleBlamedCanada



Category: South Park
Genre: Background Eric Cartman, Background Relationships, DIScUSTaING, Fanart, Hate, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Vomiting, Yaoi, also this is based off of my sleep schedule of going to bed at 5am so have fun Kyle, anti-kyman, anti-semitic, asian girls - Freeform, background Stan Marsh, don’t worry its not actually kaman its just the topic, lets see how much hate I get from this, like basically the episode Tweek x Craig but formatted to prove a point, natzi, puke, why are you booing me I'm right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyleBlamedCanada/pseuds/KyleBlamedCanada
Summary: Kyle can't sleep, and he doesn't know why.After staying up late, he makes a discovery and realizes what has been bothering him.





	Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the kymans](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+kymans).



         There he was again, staring at his phone while another clip from Thomas the Tank Engine ended and he scrolled through YouTube to find another. Reminisce of his childhood.

         What was he doing?

         He stopped for a moment, placing the phone on his chest and staring up at his dark ceiling with un-tired eyes. He looked back at his phone. 2:23 am.

         He groaned and sat up, placing his cheeks in the palms of his hand. Only yesterday he was a fourth grader, now he was doing high school math in the middle of his first year in middle school.

         At least that’s how it felt.

         He stood and opened a drawer in his nightstand, picking up a granola bar and carefully opening it. He broke it in half, one in his mouth and the other in the open drawer. He began to pace across his room. Back and forth a few times before he stopped beside his closet, listening.

         He hated silence. Certain silence. The silence when he was home alone, not the silence he sat in with Stan once in a while. That silence was comforting.

         He knew if he only walked down the hall he would be able to hear his mother’s snores and his father’s sleep talk. If he only opened his door, there was a chance he would be able to hear the soft Minecraft music his brother fell asleep to. Yet, the silence was unnerving.

         A few more moments of silent chewing before he opened his closet door, peeking inside. His unease didn’t disappear but at least he was alone.

         He stepped away from the closet, swallowing the dry fruit and nut, and walking to his bedroom door, silently opening it. Listening.

         He did that a lot nowadays.

         It wasn’t Minecraft music, but some anime Kyle was too tired to scold Ike on watching. He walked down the hall to the bathroom, slow to keep the floorboards silent. And there were his mother’s snores. His father was either gone for the night or silent in his sleep.

         He kept the bathroom door open, flipping the light on and stared at himself in the mirror from the doorway.

         Puberty was a bitch, and he approached the mirror to inspect his worsening pizza face. He always said, he knew, that you weren’t supposed to pop your pimples. His index fingers glided across his cheek and squeezed at a small one next to his nose.

         In the past few months, his face has begun to morph into an uglier version of his elementary years. The pimples that never left, his crooked nose he was sure he broke (his mother insisted it was genetics), his lanky skin arms, and his stupid dried curls that he had yet to find the conditioner for.

         He scowled at himself in the mirror. He hated his looks.

         But, the only thing he hated more then himself was Eric Cartman.

         His fingers brushed away the puss and he squeezed again.

         His hands had to be busy in order to think. It didn’t use to be like this, but things change.

         He hated Eric Cartman. That fact had never changed. Or had it?

         He stopped for a moment, a slight peck of blood coming from the popped pimple, His fingers moved on to find another.

         He assumed that he hated Eric Cartman. That was a good way to put it. He had tolerated the boy since they were both in kindergarten. His antics and opinions never settled with Kyle well for obvious reasons. Anti-semitic words, threats, forced sexual acts, Kyle glared at himself in the mirror. Why did he still consider Cartman as a friend?

         Silence, again.

         He looked down into the sink. He was afraid of being alone. With that realization in place, his hands continued as he leaned into the mirror. It wasn’t like he could ever be alone, Stan made sure of that.

         Their friendship had rocked in the fourth grade but they were able to get it back on track. They never really had to talk about it, they just silently became friends again. Was that how it worked?

         His chest ached slightly as he let his hands rest. He turned on the faucet and washed his face of the pizza grease.

         He missed Stan. With his new math classes and higher-level learning, it took up more of his time. He couldn’t really see Stan as much as he used to. Another realization. It hurt to be without his friends.

         But, again, could Cartman be called as his friend? The boy would only ever help Kyle or be nice to him when it benefited his way of thinking or whatever new money-making plan he had shoved up his ass.  
It was a toleration, another chance for Cartman to change his ways. He always gave Cartman that, he could never learn. Second chance, third change, seventh chance, he had lost count around chance two-hundred and thirty. It wasn’t worth keeping track.

         Kyle sighed, fixing his nightshirt before flicking off the lights and walking back to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and sat down at his computer, logging in and pulling up Instagram.

         Something more was bothering him. If he wasn’t on his phone, he was on his laptop. He was always staring at a screen. He would probably need glasses if he kept this up, but he scrolled through his feed anyways.

         There was a blurred picture of Sparky, no doubt Stan was still awake. Wendy and Bebe showing off their nail polish a few hours ago, probably a sleepover or something. Kevin taking a selfie with Red, there was a slight smile on her face. Even Heidi was taking photos of her fish to put up.

         Kyle sighed and leaned against his hand, clicking his mouse unproductively, and leaned back in his chair. What was wrong with him?

         He looked at the clock. 3:11 am.

         He should have been tired three hours ago! Usually, he would panic, but he just rolled his eyes at himself.

         He started to scroll down, his eyes not really paying attention to what flew past.

         His mind wandered back to the most interesting topic of that night. Sleep, no, Eric Cartman.

         There was one time, maybe two times, where Cartman seemed to change for the better. And both those times, Kyle didn’t trust him and he was right to not trust him. In the end, Cartman reverted back to normal and it was like a punch in the stomach.

         It was like losing your progress in an RPG, six hours of work down the drain. God damn it, he wished he could go a month without seeing or hearing Cartman.

         In some anime show Ike watched, he couldn’t remember the name of it, but the villain defeated the hero and regretted doing so because the hero took up so much of the villain's life.

         If anything, Kyle was trying to separate himself from Cartman. He wouldn’t miss the obnoxious boy if he left to be a pirate again. As long as Ike didn’t get involved.

         Kyle sighed and rubbed his eyes with both his hands before staring at the screen.

         Tweek and Craig, playing with Stripe and Spot, their guinea pigs. Kyle blinked at the image. Three years and those two were still together, after the whole Yaoi incident.

         Speaking of…

         Kyle leaned forward, his fingers clicking at the keyboard as he searched up a particular username and clicked on the account.

         His heart sank.

         “Ship of the Week”. Something he swore he would never get himself involved in. But, it was kind of hard when he was kind of forced to be involved. Stan would say to ignore it but…

         Kyle thought back to the Yaoi incident in fourth grade. Creek had been the big main focus, but that didn’t mean the girls didn’t have other ships up their sleeves. Since Tweek and Craig were officially together, they had made art of other pairings. Always the boys. Thankfully, the new pairings didn’t cause as much uproar as the first, but Kyle was uneasy with the newest fascination.

         The young boy shuttered as he scrolled through the posts cluttering the account. His stomach twisting and flopping. He wanted to puke. He assumed this is what Stan felt when he saw a cute girl, expect with Kyle this happened when he saw something distasteful.

         He stopped his finger, his hand trembling slightly. He stared at an image, acid suddenly burning the back of his throat. Rage and disdain, like a wave, came over him and he slouched, staring at the screen.  
It was disgusting, he could hardly process what he was looking at.

         It was an art piece of him, his face being held and squished as he kissed the person he hated more than his own father.

         It was a drawing of Kyle kissing Eric Cartman.

         He gagged and stood, stepping away from the desk. He gagged again, and looking away, willing for himself not to throw up.

         His hands shook as he struggled to take calming breaths of air. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe something like that could exist. Him? Kissing Cartman?

         He turned back to the computer, staring at the drawing with disgust and fear. He would have never dreamed of doing something so terrifying. That would be classified as a nightmare.

         Kyle reached for the mouse and began to scroll down again. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be looking at this.

         Another image, him looking at Eric Cartman with a blush. How did people see that? He never once blushed at Cartman. Sure he would smile, but that didn’t mean anything!

         God damn it, what was _this_!?

         The next one broke his mind. Something outrageous that should never come into someone’s mind.  
Eric Cartman was drawn in an army outfit. A dark grey with a black belt. On his arm, there was a red band with a swastika clear as day. Kyle shuttered as he saw how he was drawn. It was the worst of the worst.  
Kyle was in nothing but a blue spandex with a white Star of David, a collar around his neck, the leash in Cartman’s hand. The worst part was the fact that Kyle was running his hands over Cartman’s body, a lustful look on his face with his tongue hanging out with drool.

         In a panic, the boy closed the webpage and stumbled backward, his foot nudging against the trash can by his bed. He spun around and doubled over, holding his stomach as he puked the half-eaten granola bar and stomach acid into the trash bin. He coughed and threw up again, tears prickling at his eyes.

         How could anyone do that? How could anyone be so _twisted_ as to ship him with someone who he loathed? Someone with an anti-semitic viewpoint, someone who did _nothing_ but make his life _miserable_.

         He spat the acid from his mouth and stood, sniffling as he rubbed his eyes. He needed to go to bed, brush his teeth and go to bed. Yeah, he just needed to rest his head.

         He muffled a soft sob and surprised his tears as he walked into the hallway once again.

         It was 3:59 am.


End file.
